


who will sing me (into death sleep sling me)

by EvelynnFae



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Assassin Clarke Griffin, Candle Hoe Lexa (The 100), Canon Universe, Clarke and Luna are bros, Commander Hearteyes Lexa (The 100), Endgame Clarke Griffin/Lexa, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Grounder Clarke Griffin, Hurt and comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Wanheda Clarke Griffin, because why not, depressed Lexa, give my clarkey a hug, i live for trigedasleng
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:35:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27602875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvelynnFae/pseuds/EvelynnFae
Summary: Grief, was the first feeling that crossed her heart as she gazed upon the sky. An overwhelming sadness that clung to her shadow and grappled her form to the ground. Clarke Griffin fell to her knees, tears tracking their way down her face before falling to the damp soil. Then, fury. A fiery ache that wrapped itself around her mourning heart. Tempering it. She welcomed the familiar feeling with open arms, the anger emanating off her in waves. Above her, filling the void of space were hundreds of shooting stars. Accept they weren’t shooting stars. 300 bodies were propelled through the sky, wreathed in flames and beautiful in their tragedy.Through the mist of sorrow, Clarke came to a conclusion.  The only reason the ark would have made that sacrifice is if they believed that the delinquents on earth were dead. But that would mean; the hundred have all removed their wristbands, sentencing 300 people of the ark to die. She let loose a hoarse cry.-------------------------The 100 have all removed their wristbands, sentencing 300 people on the ark to be culled to preserve oxygen. Clarke fell into despair and left the delinquents to forge her own path on the ground.
Relationships: Anya/Raven Reyes, Clarke Griffin & Lexa, Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Emori/John Murphy (The 100), Octavia Blake/Lincoln
Comments: 32
Kudos: 194





	1. Prologue

Grief, was the first feeling that crossed her heart as she gazed upon the sky. An overwhelming sadness that clung to her shadow and grappled her form to the ground. Clarke Griffin fell to her knees, tears tracking their way down her face before falling to the damp soil. Then, fury. A fiery ache that wrapped itself around her mourning heart, tempering it. She welcomed the familiar feeling with open arms, the anger emanating off her in waves. Above her, filling the void of space were hundreds of shooting stars. Except they weren’t shooting stars. 300 bodies were propelled through the sky, wreathed in flames and beautiful in their tragedy.

Through the mist of sorrow, Clarke came to a conclusion. The only reason the ark would have made that sacrifice is if they believed that the delinquents on earth were dead. But that would mean; the hundred have all removed their wristbands, sentencing 300 people of the ark to die. She let loose a hoarse cry.


	2. Chapter 2

“Tell me you didn’t do this”, she croaked, pitifully quiet and barely heard over the bustling activity of the 100’s camp. Her eyes darted from person to person, scanning their wrists for any sign of a wristband. All the teenager’s wrists were pale and barren where the sun had been thwarted by the cuff. Not one. Bellamy had an arrogant scowl on his face, he appeared miffed.

“Princess, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he drawled. Too Bellamy’s credit, he looked Clarke right in the eye, but you could see the guilt and anxiety shown in his posture. The slump of his shoulders, the clench of his jaw and fists.

“300”, she replied, deathly quiet. “300 people are now dead because of you, and all you have to fucking say is HEY PRINCESS!” Passer-by’s swivelled their heads to the noise. The hundred were gathering now, some with smug smirks on their faces and others just looked confused. Clarke regarded all the weary, tired faces of her people. None looked distraught over the culling. This just fuelled her anger as she turned around to look at Bellamy again. “Mothers, Fathers, Siblings, Friends!” Clarke’s voice got progressively louder as she turned to not only speak to Bellamy but the rest of the hundred. “300 people are now dead! By removing your wristbands, 300 people are dead! Not only that, but we are alone! There is no chance of the ark coming down to help us survive winter or the grounders.”

As arrogant and stupid as Bellamy appeared to Clarke, she knew that he could play an audience like a fiddle. Just as Clarke began to sway the crowd, Bellamy stepped in with his usual speech. “Who says we need help! We built this from nothing with our bare hands! Our dead are buried behind that wall in this ground! Our ground! The grounders think they can take that away. They think that because we came from the sky, we don't belong here. But they've yet to realize one very important fact: We are on the ground now, and that means we are grounders! We don’t need the Ark's aid.”

“What is this?” Raven and Octavia had nudged their way through the crowd, with equal looks of confusion. For a second Clarke had hope, hope that they didn’t follow in Bellamy’s suicide mission, but their wrists were devoid of a wristband. Any hope she had was snuffed out. She looked up at the pair.

“Your wristbands,” Clarke looked them both in the eye. “Did you not see the dead shoot across the sky?”

“Clarke? What’re you? We were trying to-” Raven protested but she was having none of it. With nothing other than the clothes she wore, Clarke stormed towards the camp exit.

“Clarke, wait!” Octavia yelled. As she ran towards her, Clarke turned around and punched her. Her fist was driven straight across her face with a crunch and Octavia fell to the floor, clutching her nose.

“Octavia!" I looked up to see Monty following raven, but he was without a wristband too. Betrayal clouding her mind, Clarke spun on her heel and ran into the forest, without once looking back.

\-------------------

“In hindsight I am stupid”, Clarke drearily acknowledged as she trudged through the underbrush. She has been hiking for hours, and although that required keen observation, she couldn’t help musing over the past and the possible future. Although she felt fear of the unknown and the grief and betrayal of her most recent loss, Clarke also felt surprisingly free. Leadership is a lonesome and tiring burden to carry and although she took it upon herself, it was not a role she enjoyed. Now the worst that could happen; is she could die. As morbid as it sounded, it gave Clarke hope and rekindled a fire in her soul. This fire was abruptly smothered bu a sudden realisation. 

101\. Raven was never given a wristband, so she never even removed one. Clarke felt utterly moronic. She was so blinded by her anger that she didn't remember her facts. Raven was a smart girl though, smarter than Clarke considering her choices. She would be safer with the hundred. It was a fool’s decision to abandon all survival resources, even if her reasons for leaving were justified. She didn’t have food, water, shelter or even decent clothes, well except her father's watch which travelled with her wherever she went. The soles on Clarke's boots were already worn thin from the generations of use they endured but coupled with her time spent on the ground and they were really on their last legs. Clarke had to actively avoid rocks so she wouldn’t puncture them. She already had bruises from on her feet which caused her to tentatively step through the forest. This did nothing to dissuade Clarke, as she refused to even consider returning to the Dropship. The betrayal she felt from the death of the Arker’s still loomed in her mind and festered. “No more stewing, what must I do going forward.” 

Water was her first priority. She would die of dehydration before starvation. Not only that but wildlife is attracted to water sources. She could fish and rig snares to catch food. Near inland water sources, foliage is denser. This would provide her with more shelter as well as edible roots and berries. Clarke sent a prayer of thanks to Pike. Without the earth skills lessons she had grudgingly attended, the Hundred would likely be dead. All her reasoning was good in theory, but the first step Clarke must take was to find water. The best method she could think of was to walk blindly in any given direction until she hit a water source. Well except the west, towards the mountain. The memory of Jasper with a spear protruding from his chest swelled before she dismissed it.

Actually, there was a river to the west. The grounders only struck jasper once he crossed the river so it must be a boundary. If she stuck to the thick foliage and didn't cross the river, perhaps she could travel upstream unnoticed until she found a more permanent shelter. Permanent. That was not something Clarke had considered prior. If she did settle out in the wild, she would be all alone. Likely forever, as she did not plan on seeing her people ever again. Her mother could rot in hell for all she cared, now that she knew what happened to her father. "Clarke the hermit." She sniggered at the thought. 

With her mind made up, Clarke looked to the sun. It was noon so the sun was now setting in the west. She swivelled in the underbrush and chased the sun.


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm close," Clarke concluded as her gaze swept over the increasing density of ferns. Ferns meant water. As did mosquito's sadly, she thought as she frivolously swatted at another one, only to miss and pathetically swat at her thigh. Clarke released a tremendous, breathy sigh. She better be close. The ark did not condition Clarke's body with the endurance she needed on the ground. The only time the words skinny and flabby can coexist while making sense was when regarding a civilian of the ark. Malnourishment, lack of oxygen, water and exercise left Clarke's body relatively weak and frail, but she persisted. Clarke stopped and hunched over, hands on her thighs and panting harshly. That's when she heard it. The sound of running water balmed Clarke's nerves as she breathed a sigh of relief. The sound made her hyper-aware of how parched the roof of her mouth felt. Her tongue thick and heavy like sandpaper. Miraculously Clarke's legs moved to carry her forward, almost on their own account. The sound of water called like a siren to her and she redoubled her efforts, pushing through the foliage until she saw the light of the setting sun reflecting off the water. It was truly, a magnificent sight. 

The setting sun. That startled Clarke out of her reverie. She needed to find shelter to hide from grounders and animals before it gets dark. Clarke looked swiftly from left to right, checking the perimeter for grounder scouts before she hesitantly shuffled towards the river bank. The river appeared to be more shallow than the section she had originally encountered with the search party. Clarke was still haunted by the river snake that snatched Octavia from the river's surface. She picked up a nearby stone and hurled it into the water and observed the surface for signs of a lurking beast in its; well not depths it is a rather shallow river. Quelled of her hesitancies, Clarke cupped her hands in the water and brought it to her face, drinking it eagerly. She wouldn't have time to find food tonight before it gets dark, so she filled her stomach with water, hoping that it would stave off the hunger pangs.

After she drank her fill, Clarke slank back into the underbrush and began to walk upstream. She never strayed far from the river, as she feared losing the only thing she had. The sun was setting at a rapid pace and Clarke could hear wild dogs baying in the distance. She began to feel afraid. Dread settled in her chest as she frantically scoured the area for a decent place to rest for the night. That was when her gaze fell on a fallen tree. It had uprooted itself and collapsed onto another tree, leaving the trunk at an angle adjacent to the ground. There were plenty of fallen bows scattering the forest floor.

Clarke got to work, gathering the dead branches and layering them against the trunk to create a shelter and to camouflage her sleeping form. She had layered a decent amount before the sun had set but had to stop as she could no longer see the branches on the forest floor. This would have to do. Clarke crawled into her makeshift lean-too and curled up, folding one arm under her head for a pillow, and shivered. The night air, while not freezing, was cold and brittle. Clarke did not have the proper provisions to retain warmth throughout the night and resigned herself to her fate. It will be a cold, long night. 

So much has changed, Clarke reflected. Only three weeks ago she was in her cell, which had housed her for 11 months. She remembered the drawings she had created that littered the walls and floor of her cell. They depicted her expectations of earth, inaccurate as they were. Clarke was at the dropship only this morning, but it felt like a lifetime ago. She realised that of the three different places she had lived over her life, (her families quarter on the ark, her cell in solitary confinement and the dropship) she had never felt at any attachment. She had never felt at home. "That's what I am looking for," Clarke decided. "A home."

\----------------------------

Clarke barely slept a wink that night. Not only was she cold, but every half hour, she could hear wild dogs baying in the distance. There were bird sounds too, cawing from the trees surrounding her. She had never been exposed to such noises before. The ground was still a new and harsh place, and; she was alone.

Eventually, the sun began to peek over the horizon. It's rays dusted the bows of Clarke's lean-too, sparkling with dew in the golden light. Her bones felt heavy and leaden with tiredness and cold, but Clarke could not bring herself to be unhappy when faced with such a beautiful sight. The sun filled her with new hope, symbolising new beginnings. That was until her stomach growled unhappily, jerking her from her musing. Clarke would not anchor herself to the lean-too. The last night proved uncomfortable, in the least. 

Clarke crouched and hobbled out of the lean-too, but miscalculated. Still clumsy and stiff with lethargy, Clarke tripped on a loose stone on the ground. She fell against the trunk of the tree and sighed with relief at having caught herself. That was until a low splintering sound registered in her ears. Clarke lurched herself back just in time, as the tree trunk was sent careening to the ground. It landed with a loud thwack, sending leaves flying into the air in front of Clarke, almost comically."So much for coming back," Clarke thought harshly. "At least I wasn't inside when it collapsed," she shivered at the thought. Just keep moving.

\-------------------------

It had only been a couple of hours since the sun had risen. Clarke had spent that time walking steadily upstream, in her search for shelter. That was until she heard it.

Voices. The gruff baritone of the grounder's language (Clarke had no idea what it was called) sounded only 50 metres away. "They must be scouts, or perhaps they are tracking me." The most contact Clarke had ever had with the people of the ground, had been witnessing them throw a spear from 50 metres away into Jasper's chest, with pin-point accuracy. The idea that they were looking for her terrified Clarkw and she set off at a quick walk, for fear that running would be too audible. Clarke then came to a small clearing of grass dappled with sunlight, dotted with trees and shaped by a rock overhang. To escape she would have to scale the overhang, which was not a promising plan. Slowing to a stop, Clarke frantically looked around. She could hide behind a tree, but the trees near the river were rather thin and spindly, they would hardly conceal her. There were plenty of ferns surrounding the clearing Clarke could lie down amongst, but if they found her she would be vulnerable to an attack. Feeling hopeless, Clarke made a mad dash for one of the trees in the shade of the protruding rock, but she clumsily tripped on some vines. The vines were tangled around her ankle, so she gave it a sharp tug and a small bolder fell from above. Clarke quickly threw herself out of the way as it fell (rather conveniently) onto the vine, cutting her loose. She regarded the vines that hung off the edge of the overhang, spilling over the side. But beyond the vines, was darkness. Clarke brought her hands up in a sweeping motion and parted the vines. A cave! She darted in quickly, crouched against the back wall and fearfully watched the entrance. 

A couple of huffed breaths later, the grounders came upon the clearing. Clarke could only catch glimpses of them between the vines, but there appeared to be only 5 of them. They were chatting animatedly, seemingly unworried about the dangers of the forest. They wore minimal weapons and clothes of worn linen and stitched leather. There were two children, a girl and a boy under ten amongst them and they were playfully wrestling each other. These people did not look like warriors and they were not scouring the area for tracks, Clarke concluded thoughtfully. Perhaps they are civilians? The idea felt strange to Clarke, as she had never thought of grounders in this way. She had envisioned all the people of Earth to be savages and survivors, as they would need to be to endure the hardship of Earth, but this showed Clarke a new side of the civilisation inhabiting Earth that she had not given a single thought. Clarke smiled at the children who attempted to scale the small trees. 

That was until she caught snippets of the adult's conversation. Their idle talk had appeared to take a serious turn, as none of them was smiling and they were using their hands excessively, as if in stress. Clarke heard the word "Skaikru" throughout the discussion and it didn't take a genius to figure out that the word meant, "People of the sky". She couldn't make out or understand much else of the conversation, but she caught "Heda" mentioned on several occasions, whatever that meant. The children ran out of the clearing, laughing and cheering all the way, which pushed the adults to follow them.

Clarke breathed a sigh of relief once they left and finally took a moment to properly regard the cave. It was rather small but big enough for Clarke to comfortably move around. It was also within earshot of the river, meaning she had a certain supply of water and animals would be plentiful. It was perfect.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE TO READERS: I'm so sorry, i did some plot planning so it would correspond with the timing in the series and realised that the three month timeline didn't add up for what i was planning. For anyone who read the original version of chapter 4, i have changed the amount of time Clarke spent alone from 2 months to a fortnight. Sorry for any confusion. It is a big change I know, but i promise the plot shall be interesting!

Clarke regarded the poorly plucked charcoal bird with distaste as she removed it from the spit. What a fabulous dinner she thought to herself. It had almost been a month and she had made little progress with her hunting. Cooking a bird was a rare meal for her. Clarke set the bird on a clean, flat river-stone that she had been using for meal preparation. She left the bird to cool and went to gather her utensils. 

All the tools she had made were kept in a small leather pouch made with leather and sewed with a bone needle she had whittled with a stone. Inside she kept her bone knife, fork, needle and excess leather which admittedly was not much. Clarke had recently hunted a deer, which had given her lots of leather which she was using sparingly. Although she used much of it to patch her clothing, which had become threadbare and unrecognisable. She was currently working on a blanket to keep her warm as winter was swiftly approaching, but she hadn't made much progress. In its current state, the pathetic blanket could only be considered a tea towel at best. Clarke's slingshot although crude was relatively sturdy. It was what she used to take down small game and her aim had been rapidly improving, especially in comparison to how unskilled she was when she left. It was constructed with a short, forked stick, with grooves carved into the end of both prongs. which fastened leather strings to. Leather strings were tied to the prongs, which attached to a small leather pouch in the middle, which was big enough to comfortably fit a small stone. For larger game or fish, Clarke would use a wooden spear she had fashioned.

The bird had cooled sufficiently when Clarke had returned to it, knife and fork in hand. She set about carving it and found that while the exterior was burnt, internally it was tender meat that appeared to be relatively unscathed. She sighed with relief and sat cross-legged on the floor and began to eat. Clarke's diet had mostly consisted of meat. Other than those nuts she had tried once, which left her shivering on the forest floor, vividly reliving her father's death and other misery's which had previously befallen her. Clarke had been successfully farming river tubers that grew in the shallow water of the boundary river. She had taken to skewering them and roasting them above the fire. It was an acquired, stringy taste but she had come to enjoy them. Clarke didn't dare try any of the berries, as she wasn't sure which were poisonous.

The bird was delicious, at least for Clarke's standards. She ate it half of it with relish before she set aside the rest for the morning, covering it with the leather tea towel to prevent the smell from wafting outside while she slept. She had once had a wild dog trudge into her cave while she slept at the smell of meat. She had quickly fled and was lucky that it only remained interested in the fish she had roasting on the spit. She hoped it was enough and set about removing her hair from her singular braid. She then began combing her hair through with her fingers and rebraiding it before turning in for the night. The fire continued to smoke and splutter as she collapsed onto her bed. It consisted of fallen bows and leaves heaped into a pile. It was very itchy.

Weary from her taxing day, it took only moments for her to fall asleep.  
\-----------------------

Clarke woke with the sun beaming through the vines as she had every morning. Her body had accustomed itself to the natural daylight cycle, and in doing so she went to bed at sunset and woke at sunrise. Clarke began eating the remains of the last night's dinner, then set out to retrieve the next. Clarke only ate one meal a day, as it took a long time for her to hunt and prepare it. She took the flat river-stone she used as a table with her, it was roughly the size of a large platter. After deciding that fish and tubers will be her meal of the day, she retrieved her spear, which she used to catch fish.

Clarke had walked her way from the cave to the river so many times that there was a worn groove in the foliage, making it easy for her to find her way. Once she reached the foliage, Clarke decided to bathe first. She had found that in this region, there were more fish gathering in eddies at mid-morning, so she had a while to wait. Perfect for her to drink her fill of water, bathe and gather as many tubers as her shirt can carry. After checking the perimeter, Clarke roller her pant legs up to her thighs and removed her shirt, tying it at one end. After discarding the shirt with the riverstone and spear at the shore, she approached the water. Before she stepped forward and disturbed the water's surface, Clarke caught sight of her reflection. 

She had changed much in such a short period. Her body had become thin from malnutrition, yet corded with muscle from the exercise. Hunting and gathering was a never-ending task. Her hair was also longer and could now reach her lower back, which she kept in a long plait. Her face had lost all remaining traces of baby fat and had become slightly gaunt. She looked wild; and lonely. Shrugging off her feelings Clarke waded into the river, she shivered initially but she was rather used to being cold. Once she was chest high, Clarke took a deep breath, then emerged herself. Upon resurfacing, she felt a sudden moment of clarity, her mind was clear and so unbelievably present. So much so, that Clarke imagined that if she spent the rest of her life this way, she could almost be content. Well hopefully more so after she made a few improvements in her living standards. Just like that reality came crashing in and she returned to herself.

Clarke did her best to clean herself, she really did. She scrubbed at her arms, face and underarms with her bare hands. She unplaited her hair, before combing it out with her fingers and scrubbing as best she could. But there was only so much she could do. Her priority was to not take herself too vulnerably for an attack. Being completely naked would be unwise, hence she still has her shoes on. Still, every week she would take the chance and return, sit in the shallow waters with her clothes in her hands and scrub it upon her river-stone.

Once Clarke was sufficiently clean, she plaited her hair and returned to shore to gather her t-shirt, she then began to pick tubers and stow them away in her shirt. They were easy to gather and before long her shirt was a quarter full. Clarke had discovered that the tubers were edible when she had first skinned a fish. She discovered that it is possible to find edible food for humans by examining the contents of your kills stomach. 

Deciding that she had enough tubers, she set the tubers upon the shore and retrieved her river stone, which she proceeded to scrub in the shallow water to rid of old meat juice.

That was when she heard it, there was a loud screech and a splash. Clarke whirled around, feeling slightly foolish as she stood shirtless without a weapon. She made a sweep of her surroundings with her eyes, at first seeing nothing, but after a double take she could make out a figure on a particularly steep and rocky part of the riverbank. Hesitantly, she inched closer and regarded the figure. It a young girl by the looks of it only 7 or eight. She was lean, with long brunette hair that was intricately braided along her hair. She was unmoving and it looked as if she had skidded down the slope along the rocks. Still on guard, as there could be more Clarke loomed over the girl and analysed her condition. It looked as if she had hit her head on the rocks as she fell, she would likely have a concussion. There was a deep graze on her leg too, blood was welling out to pool among the rocks. Wait a second. Clarke took another look at the wound on the girls leg. BLACK BLOOD. THE GIRL HAD BLACK BLOOD. But how? Clarke regarded the girl's sleeping face. She looked so peaceful, so innocent. Hardly capable of violence. After regarding the girl's sleeping face, it only took a second of consideration for Clarke to heave the girl in her arms and set off for her cave. Yes it was a risk, she could be discovered, but Clarke would not risk the life of such a young girl. She was a healer after all, it was in her nature. Even if she was a grounder. Besides, as much as she could deny it, Clarke was ever so lonely.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE TO READERS: I'm so sorry, i did some plot planning so it would correspond with the timing in the series and realised that the two month timeline didn't add up. For anyone who read the original version of chapter 4, i have changed the amount of time Clarke spent alone from 2 months to a month. I also realised that i forgot to mention in the last chapter that the girl had black blood. I went back and edited it so it's there now. Sorry for any confusion!I

It was only once she reached the cave that Clarke realised she had left her things behind. She grit her teeth in annoyance and prayed that they would remain safe. It was only a small price to pay considering the beautiful little girl unconscious in her arms.

Clarke lay the girl on the musty boughs of her bed and set about assessing her injuries. First, she looked over the child's head, which appeared relatively unscathed. When someone knocks their head, you must make sure they do not fall unconscious as it is a distinct possibility that they could not wake up. But the girl was already asleep when Clarke found her, so the only thing she could do was wait for her to wake up.

Clarke then looked over the girl's leg. Why did she have black blood? Perhaps all the people on the ground had black blood now as an effect of generations of radiation. Clarke decided not to overthink it, perhaps she could inquire about it later. The girl's leg had a deep gash in it, splintered with pieces of dirt and stone. Clarke's priority was to clean the wound, then stitch it up. She glanced around helplessly of her barren cave, reminiscing the high tech medical facilities of the ark. All Clarke had to work with was a bone needle and some gut from a deer. They would do for stitching, but how would she clean the wound? Clarke facepalmed, as she realised that the best place she could do that was at the river. It was best not to take the girl back, as it is likely she has a concussion and jostling her unconscious form could destabilise her condition further.

Clarke's father had always had an interest in Earth. No, an obsession would be a kind way to put it. He longed for things he could never hope to have. When he woke up, he would look upon the earth and mourn a life he could see but never reach. When Clarke was young he would educate her about Earth's flora and fauna, much to her mother's chagrin. Her mother approved of his earth medical lessons the most, so that was a frequent topic of his lessons. She was an intelligent child and although she was young at the time, she could remember snippets of his lessons. The common yarrow root was used for inflammation, the pollen from sumac to relieve a sore throat and red river-weed for disinfection. Sadly she remembered what none of these plans looked like, but red weed wasn't hard to picture. Clarke could vaguely remember a red cloud of weed sitting limply in an eddie at the river. Besides, that would give her the perfect opportunity to recollect her stuff.

But what about the girl? It was certainly not wise to leave an injured grounder child alone in her home, but what else could she do? Besides, she is currently unconscious and it is a quick walk to the river. The child would likely remain unconscious for the entirety of the errand. With her decision made, Clarke set her jaw and departed for the river, walking swiftly yet surely.

When Clarke reached the river, she looked around for her things, her spear was gone, but her shirt remained, most likely because they sat squarely behind her river-stone which was leaning against it along the treeline. Perhaps they didn't see it. Was someone here? It could have been a wild animal, which she highly doubted. Why would an animal take her spear? It was relatively easy to make a new one, so Clarke relaxed slightly. In all honestly, she was greatly relieved that her shirt was still here, she had no idea what she would do without it.

After remembering her purpose for returning to the river, Clarke's head swivelled, searching for the river-weed. It wasn't hard to find. A billowing cloud of red floated in one of the eddies on the opposite side of the river. Looks like she will have to swim for it. Clarke had frequented this river over her time in the wild. She knew that even as an extremely weak swimmer, she would be fine to reach the other side. The current was not particularly strong and if worst came to worst, she could simply bounce along, pushing herself off the bottom. What's more, Clarke had never seen a river snake in this part of the river, for whatever reason. With no preamble, Clarke strode into the water, shivering at the cold intrusion. She cupped her hands and took a couple of long drinks before she continued forward again. When it reached her neck, Clarke began a weak doggy paddle. She got fairly tired halfway across and felt herself sink lower into the water. When her head sunk under, it took only a few moments for her feet to touch the murky bottom. She then gave a strong push off the bottom, propelling herself up and forward. She reached the surface and continued her pitiful excuse for a doggy paddle.

Once she reached the other side, Clarke grasped the stringy, slimy weed in her hand for a moment. Her other hand had reached out to clasp on a branch which she clung tightly too. After a few moments of recovery, Clarke stuffed a few fist fulls of weed in her pocket and began the journey back. She followed the same method as before, albeit with less doggy paddling and a bit more pushing off of the riverbed.

Once she reached the other side of the riverbed, picked up a smooth, round river stone half the size of her fist off the bank. Clarke then proceeded to stare dumbly at her bulging pockets, then at the reasonably large bundle of things she would have to carry back. With no better idea, Clarke stuffed the rock between her breasts inside her bra. She sniggered slightly at the bulge it made before she went to gather her things.

\--------------

When Clarke returned to the cave, the young girl was thankfully still unconscious. Carefully and quietly, Clarke laid down her things. First the river-stone, then she emptied her t-shirt of tubers onto the stone before shrugging it on gratefully. Clarke briefly thought she was forgetting something. She looked down at the tubers, then took notice of a bulge in her chest, appearing from under her bra. She rolled her eyes and stuffed her hand down her bra, before retrieving the stone. Clarke emptied her pockets of seaweed, then set to grounding them with the stone on her makeshift bench. The weed was dyeing her stone red which annoyed her slightly, but she persisted until she had a delicious pile of red mulch. Clarke approached the girl with her bone fork and knife in either hand. She used the utensils to delicately pinch the pieces of rock and dirt from the wound. It was a tedious task but it only took ten minutes. She then proceeded to scoop a small amount of the weed up in her hand before unceremoniously splatting it on the girls wound. It had stopped bleeding, but since she did not have a bandage to cover the wound, she decided she would see if the girl would wake up or not before she decided to stitch the wound.

Clarke began to start a fire with twigs and branches she had found outside. Her fires never went for too long without her constant maintenance as she didn't have any tools to cut larger logs. Instead, she made do with the biggest branches she could break. Starting the fire always took her a long time, as she had no flint and steel. She would swivel one stick into another under a bunch of dried leaves and stringybark. After a time, she would achieve enough friction to cause a spark which would catch on the leaves. Clarke's fires burnt hot and fast and required a lot of attention. It ate through her wood supply very quickly so she always saw that she had enough. Once her fire was burning bright enough, Clarke skewered a couple of tubers on the spit before mounting them above the fire. They didn't take long to cook, so she began to rotate them.

That was when she heard a quiet scuffling, Clarke quickly jumped to her feet and spun around, she was only a little surprised that the girl was awake. She was standing in a defensive position with her hand curled into fists and raised to her chest. She looked older than she had when she was sleeping, with a fierce look in her beautiful blue-green eyes. Clarke put her hands above her head in a placating manner, suddenly grateful that she did not have her spear. She could've come across as hostile, startling the girl further. She took another tentative step forward making a 'shhh' sound. That was her mistake, the girl drew a knife from her thigh. Not a bone knife either, an intricate steel knife that glinted in the light of Clarke's fire. Clarke stared at her dumbly. Of course, she didn't search the child for weapons, what an amateur move! Sensing that she was getting nowhere, she stepped backwards and sat back down in front of the fire, motioning for the girl to join her. Hesitantly, the girl limped towards the opposite side of the fire and regarded Clarke intently. She seemed very intelligent for a young child, with sure, analytical eyes.

Clarke was just content to continue staring, this was the first human contact she had had in three months. It made her feel at peace and the aching in her chest ceased for just a moment. That was until she smelt something burning. Her tubers were not lightly toasted, but aflame. Clarke hurriedly reached to remove the spit and blow the fire out, but the tuber practically crumbled off the spit. Her mouth formed a large pout as she stared frozen at the burnt remains of her tubers. That was when she heard it. The grounder began to laugh, attempting to stifle it with the back of her hand. It didn't work. It was a magical sound, one Clarke hadn't heard in a long time. She just warmly regarded the child with a small smile on her lips and mirth in her eyes. Clarke then began to methodically re-skewer a few more tubers and place it above the fire again. The girl took a seat, sitting with her knees drawn to her chest.

After a couple of moments, the girl broke the silence. "Ai laik Madi kom Trikru," she said hesitantly. Clarke just stared at her puzzled, she didn't consider the language barrier. She couldn't talk to her in English, perhaps she would figure out that she was not one of her people, whatever they called themselves. She decided that the wiser course of action was to remain silent. Perhaps the girl would think she was a mute, that would give her time to learn the grounder language. She tried to figure out the words meant in her head. "I Madi come Tree crew". She was Madi of the tree people? Clarke nodded carefully.

"En yu?" Madi tried again. That one was not difficult to figure out, but Clarke could not figure out what to say. She just shrugged, gestured to her throat and shook her head. "Aghhh" Madi nodded candidly. "Sha o no den." Clarke had no idea what that meant, so she made a pitiful attempt at pretending she hadn't heard and refocused her attention on the fire. Madi seemed to get her message and didn't press for more answers.

The tubers were ready so Clarke removed them from the spit and laid them across the river-stone, away from the mess of red mulch. Clarke wrinkled her nose at the sight. She divided the tubers 15 each and handed Madi her handful. It was a pitiful dinner. If Clarke had known she would have a guest, she would have liked to think she would have tried harder to fetch dinner. She thought longingly of the delicious bird she ate the night before, then shook her head morbidly. She shrugged apologetically at Madi as she took her share. Madi seemed to understand the sentiment and waved her hand as if to say "all is well". Madi, of course, didn't trust Clarke fully yet but figured that if she had wanted to hurt her she would have attempted something already. Besides, considering her pitiful living standards and lack of weapons, it didn't look like she was much of a problem. The young child looked upon Clarke with pity. Something Clarke recognised immediately and didn't appreciate. She hurriedly and unceremoniously stuffed the rest of the tubers in her mouth and got up to organise the bedding. She separated her already small bed into two sorry lumps of leaves that would have to do.

Clarke then grabbed her knife, fork, needle and gut string and reapproached the girl, gesturing to her leg. Madi seemed to get the message but recoiled as if realising something terrible. She glanced at the wound on her leg, then back at Clarke. She seemed to be having a debate with herself, but after a moment she seemed to have made her decision. She finished the last of her tubers, splayed her hands to either side and stretched her leg outward, wincing visibly. Clarke picked up her bone knife and fork and began to remove the red weed from the wound. Satisfied that it had disinfected the wound, Clarke then picked up her bone needle and gut. Madi then raised a hand to stop her. Madi unsheathed her knife which made Clarke recoil. She then gestured to the knife: "swis," then she pointed to the flames: "faya." It was obvious that Madi wanted to cauterize her wound. Clarke could, of course, do both, but which would be more painful? In the end, she decided that it was Madi's choice, so Clarke took Madi's blade and angled it into the flame. She was not sure how long she should wait but just decided that she would retrieve it 20 minutes. Clarke threw more wood onto the fire, avoiding the dagger. She hoped her fire was hot enough.

Clarke looked back at Madi, who appeared to be staring deeply at a wall of the cave. Following her gaze, Clarke saw that she was staring at the pictures she had drawn. There were leaves and trees and animal sketches littering the walls, nothing incriminating though. Clarke was very glad that she had decided not to draw anything that can trace her back to the ark. If Madi found out, she would run back to her people and tell them. Clarke would let her. What else could she do? She had no means to keep Madi prisoner unless she wanted to tie her hands with her pants. The smartest choice would be to kill her, but Clarke could never do that. She was already attached to the young grounder girl, but it didn't take much. She was just craving a friend. Clarke grabbed one of the burnt sticks that had fallen from the fire. She then approached the wall and began to draw. Madi watched intently as lines began to form the curve of a jaw, a nose, flowing locks of hair. In 15 minutes Clarke had drawn an accurate depiction of the young grounder. Satisfied with her work, Clarke turned around to regard Madi. Madi was just staring at the drawing in awe, her jaw had dropped open and she levelled a look at Clarke. Her tiny mouth then curved into a wide grin. It was no doubt one of the cutest things Clarke had seen.

When the knife was ready, Clarke used the dirty tea towel to pad her hands then retrieved the knife from the fire. She then used the other hand to take a piece of leather which she rolled into a strip. Madi was already lying on the floor with her leg outstretched. She looked visibly anxious, this sent a twinge into Clarke's heart. She needed to close the wound or it would get infected. Clarke wordlessly passed the strip of leather to Madi, then pointed to her mouth and mimed biting. Madi got the picture and placed the strip of leather between her teeth, a bead of sweat rolled down her temple. Madi reached out and grasped Clarke's right hand, a wild look in her eye. Clarke then suddenly pressed the knife firmly to Madi's wound, causing Madi to arch of the stone floor with a stifled squeal. Tenderly Clarke wiped the hair from Madi's face. She did very well for a child so young, she was impressed.

\-------------------------

The sun beamed through the cave opening, waking up the two girls on their respective mound of leaves. After cauterizing Madi's wound the night before, she had fallen asleep quickly from exhaustion, Clarke soon followed suit.

Clarke was determined to have cooked tubers as it was infinitely better than raw tubers that morning. She was attempting to start the fire when Madi spoke again. "Chit ste yu nom. (What is your name?) " Clarke had no idea what she was saying so all she did was shrug. "Ai will giv yu won, (I will give you one.) " Madi then answered decidedly. That line sounded so similar to English that Clarke thought for a second that she was speaking English but then thought better. The grounder language was an evolved version of English that had changed over time. She would not break her silence, it was her cover. Clarke's attention returned to the fire and in doing so Madi seemed to process what she was doing for the first time. At first, she sniggered at Clarke's feeble efforts to start a fire, then she began to all-out laugh. Clarke levelled a playful glare at her, before returning her attention to the fire.

"Yu nom ste: Lieda Faya, (Your name is: Goodbye Fire,)" Madi giggled to herself. Clarke had no idea what that meant, but she guessed it was a joke regarding her so she wordlessly handed the two sticks she was using to start the fire to Madi, giving her a sarcastic "go ahead" gesture. Madi smirked before reaching into a pocket and pulling out flint and steel, Clarke's jaw dropped and she lunged at Madi smiling wickedly. She began to tickle Madi who laughed uncontrollably yelling "ge off! ge off!"

At that moment, sudden darkness filled the cave. Clarke quickly looked up to see a bunch of looming figures blocking the light at the entrance to her cave. The grounders rushed forward, surrounding Clarke and yanking her off Madi. Their thick boots trampled over the fireplace and someone grabbed her arms and secured them behind her. Madi began to whine, trying to drag the grounders off Clarke, but they simply shrugged her off. That was when Madi did something Clarke had never seen before.

Madi executed a quick and strong roundhouse kick, sweeping the legs from under one of the men approaching Clarke, she then sucker-punched a grounder woman who attempted to grab her. She was a whirlwind, singlehandedly taking down the warriors that threatened to overwhelm her. That was until a loud "SEKON" filled the room. Madi faltered and a man took the advantage to secure Madi's hands as well. A very large man strode his way into the room, his beard was long and braided and he was armed from head to toe.

"Fos!", Madi yelled hurriedly, but he simply but a hand up, silencing her. "We will talk later," he said in perfect English. Madi nodded. Did they speak English? Clarke thought to herself in shock. The large man took a couple of long strides towards her and looked Clarke dead in the eye. Then baring his teeth, he punched her hard in the stomach, making her double over with a gasp. Madi lunged forward, "Faya!" she called out but she could do nothing as she was restrained by the man behind her. Clarke received another blow to the stomach and one to the face before the punches stopped falling. Clarke looked up at the man, blood welling from her nose and shot a deadly glare at him. The man looked unphased.

"We're taking her to Drom." He ordered before turning around and marching out of the cave, motioning for the others to follow.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi dear readers! I have a question for you. Would you prefer shorter but more frequent updates? Or longer updates with a longer wait?
> 
> Evelynn
> 
> Xx


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